I learned a lot on my recent weekend in Bermuda. Not all of it was about Bone fishing. To be honest, not very much of it was about Bone fishing, but I think I've armed myself with enough info to be dangerous on my next trip. When asked what I learned on the trip, my first thought is of the various cocktails I now know I enjoy; Pina Coladas, Daquaris, and Yellow Birds all go down smooth. I even came across a Bermudian ale called Whale of a Tale Ale, which I rather liked. But, none of this has to do with fishing, so I'll move on.
I knew Bremuda was a British colony, and I knew Britian has different property use laws, but I never put two and two together. Finding an area with both Bones, and access isn't easy. After several inquiries, it seemed as if I would be forced to pay big bucks to fish with the local flyfishing guide service, Jump Dem Bones. http://www.jumpdembones.free.bm/
One gentleman suggested I try fishing Somerset Long Bay on the west end of the island, though he admitted he knew little about Bone fishing. He thought the area might be good, having seen people flycasting there several times in the past. I filed this info away, hoping it wouldn't be the best I got. It wasn't.
On Saturday the wife and I took a stroll around the city of Hamilton. Fortunately, directly across the street from the bus depot is a tackle shop. Fly Bridge Tackle is located at 26 Church St, and it is there that Fly Bridge proprietor Eddie Cook filled in a few blanks about fishing Bermuda, and provided a spot to fish. While Eddie doesn't carry any flyfishing tackle, he does have just about everything else. Most importantly, local knowledge. And he's friendly too, as are most people on the island. If you're planning to go to Bermuda and wish to fish, pay Eddie a visit.
Sunday I was eager to make my way to the area Eddie recommended. Just a bit over a mile away from our hotel, Whale Bone bay is a public access beach and park on the western side of St. George Parish. A short bus ride, and a slightly longer walk would get us there. I'd fish, while Junko relaxed and caught rays on the beach. It was not to be. Though the sun still shined, and the weather was warm, mother nature saw fit to bestow upon us a 25knot west wind. I wasn't fishing in that. Heart broken I set out on a path of recovery, wearing a well worn trail between the hot tub, and the bar. Fishing, or not; Bermuda doesn't suck.
Showing posts with label Bermuda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bermuda. Show all posts
Monday, April 11, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Into The Unknown
Tomorrow morning I depart on an epic adventure across the sea to parts unknown. Actually, no. But I am going to Bermuda, and I haven't been there before, so it is an adventure of sorts. Not knowing much about the place, I haven't any idea what kind of adventure I'll be engaging in, but you can bet my 9 weight flyrod, and a few new flies are making the trip with me. I expect I'll spend a good deal of time in the cockpit of a kayak too. An enjoyable way of seeing the coast.
The glossy print posters at the travel agency, though I'm kind of scared to admit it, have me secretly longing to dress in white linen, with a panama hat while duffing a round on a pristene golf course, cigar dangling from my lips. Yeah, I know. The thought makes my puke a little in my mouth, too. After all, cigars are to be enjoyed, not clenched in anger. I do liken golf to wingshooting. The way I see it, both activities have you walking around in beautiful scenery, and every once in a while you make a nice shot. The biggest difference; golf leaves no doubt as to how close you're miss was, wingshooters can still fudge the truth. "Really, I missed in front."
I doubt I'll have any trouble swimming up to the in pool bar, or enjoying the bar in the 100,000 year old grotto. No doubt I'll be faced with eating some interesting island fare too. This is, however, my first adventure which requires me to wear a sport coat at dinner.
On a less jovial note, a good friend, Tino, has passed into the unknown. Tino was a rugby mate of mine, and I'm proud to have been on the pitch with him at the Acton 10s last summer, as our rag tag team won the bowl division. Though the outdoors connection is vague, there is one. Tino was fixture at the kennel where I regularly board my dogs when travelling. He was good to my dogs, and thats enough in my book to be called a friend. I hope they're taking care of him now, like he took care of them. He deserves it. Rest In Peace, Tino.
The glossy print posters at the travel agency, though I'm kind of scared to admit it, have me secretly longing to dress in white linen, with a panama hat while duffing a round on a pristene golf course, cigar dangling from my lips. Yeah, I know. The thought makes my puke a little in my mouth, too. After all, cigars are to be enjoyed, not clenched in anger. I do liken golf to wingshooting. The way I see it, both activities have you walking around in beautiful scenery, and every once in a while you make a nice shot. The biggest difference; golf leaves no doubt as to how close you're miss was, wingshooters can still fudge the truth. "Really, I missed in front."
I doubt I'll have any trouble swimming up to the in pool bar, or enjoying the bar in the 100,000 year old grotto. No doubt I'll be faced with eating some interesting island fare too. This is, however, my first adventure which requires me to wear a sport coat at dinner.
On a less jovial note, a good friend, Tino, has passed into the unknown. Tino was a rugby mate of mine, and I'm proud to have been on the pitch with him at the Acton 10s last summer, as our rag tag team won the bowl division. Though the outdoors connection is vague, there is one. Tino was fixture at the kennel where I regularly board my dogs when travelling. He was good to my dogs, and thats enough in my book to be called a friend. I hope they're taking care of him now, like he took care of them. He deserves it. Rest In Peace, Tino.
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